


Epiphany

by pebbles1971



Series: Older and Wiser [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Drama, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neurodiversity, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-04 15:19:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pebbles1971/pseuds/pebbles1971
Summary: John grows as a person, Rodney reevaluates (again)





	1. The Miller Christmas Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Spectrum" (I just couldn't leave it there). There's a little bit of sexy stuff in later chapters. There's a lot of John and Rodney learning to communicate, because that's my kink. I cannot promise John's hair will get through this piece unscathed. I can promise a happy ending for everything apart from the hair.
> 
> I decided Rodney is not yet evolved enough not to use mildly ableist slurs like “idiot”, but I’m working on him. Apologies for that. Also, I don’t usually use parentheses in fiction, but somehow the workings of Rodney’s mind requires them.

‘Get here early, come for breakfast, and you can help with the kids while I set up for the party,’ Jeannie had said the week before as Rodney explained he would be arriving in Canada late on December 23rd, and would head over to theirs Christmas Eve.

Rodney was looking forward to seeing Jeannie, Madison and Bradley, and even Kaleb, the vegan English Major Jeannie had mystifyingly got herself hitched to over a decade before. It would be nice to spend some time with them before other people started to arrive for the party.

By other people, he of course meant Colonel John Sheppard, who he had last spoken to by video message, at one and the same time declaring (possibly undying) love for him whilst also invoking him to get the fuck out of his life for being a complete dick. Those were not the exact words, but that was certainly the over-arching message. Since then, there had been a flurry of typically wordless emails and an announcement that Jeannie had invited him, as she always did, to the Miller Christmas Thing (yep, it was really called that), and the Colonel had inexplicably agreed to come.

Now it was 9am on Christmas Eve and Rodney was emerging from an impersonal hotel he had fallen into late last night and he was on the lookout for _proper coffee_ before he considered hailing a taxi to the Millers’ house. This meant negotiating a busy street to get to a little coffee place the concierge had assured Rodney was the best in the area. But Rodney – autistic, easily overwhelmed, Rodney – was now walking a street packed with cheerfully awful noise and stomach-turning smells and flashing lights and jostling, pushing, _touching_ people. All the shouting and last-minute Christmas shoppers along with various kinds of competing Christmas music and lights _before his coffee_. Although he knew his over-use of caffeine made his anxiety worse, lack of caffeine made it worse still, and he could honestly kill someone.

He breathed out, long and slow, and resisted the urge to shout ‘get out of my fucking way’ to the idiots aimlessly milling in front of him. He missed the Pegasus galaxy, where despite the fact there were considerably more explosions, it was generally much quieter. And there were never this many people.

Oh, and he almost always had a gun with him when he went shopping in Pegasus, which helped a lot. A P90 would be super handy right now.

Of course, thinking about guns made him think of John.

John, who had said in his email that Jeannie had “bugged him til he agreed”. For the month or so since the email arrived, Rodney had fought with himself over whether to have it out with Jeannie and tell her to un-invite him. Partly, that was because he was enjoying the newfound closeness he had with his sister and didn’t want to jeopardize it by grumbling at her.

He liked spending time with the Millers, and Madison was getting more interesting by the year. Now aged ten, she was already years ahead of her peers academically, although she forsook her mom’s and Uncle Mer’s interest in physics for chemistry and, of all things, biology. Last time he was home for Christmas, she had been eight, and had murmured about becoming a geneticist. Rodney had simply ignored her and asked her once again, perhaps a little desperately, if she would like to help him build a nuclear bomb. She had been far more interested in looking at soil samples through the microscope John had bought her (a top-quality laboratory model, of course, from the loaded Colonel).

Finally, he located the cute little coffee shop, almost by the smell that seemed to sooth his senses rather than adding to the noise. He ordered, and when the pink-haired androgyne who took his order asked for a name, he smiled and said ‘Meredith’. They smiled back, warmly, and Rodney felt a little spark of queer connection.

 _Fuck the kind of bullshit masculinity that thinks it’s funny or weird for a man to have a “girl’s” name,_ he thought, and mentally kicked John Sheppard in the shins for that, too. He was still Rodney, but he enjoyed playfully airing his first name these days, instead of hiding it in shame.

Rodney was increasingly honest with himself in a way he had never been. Honest enough to admit that two equally strong opposing forces in his heart were hoping for two entirely different outcomes from his non-response to John’s email. The email had been ambiguous – it had at one and the same time presented his attendance at the Miller Christmas Thing as a fait accompli, while at the same time seeming to be asking Rodney’s approval, or even permission. Rodney had been unable to respond, caught in a fierce battle between the part of him that wanted to see John again, and the part of him that didn’t, and he knew his lack of response (he had not responded to any of John’s emails) had a 50/50 chance of achieving either result.

The bit of him that wanted to see John had equally conflicting reasons for wanting to do so. The obvious reason was that Rodney was still hopelessly (okay, okay, sometimes there was even a stupid, stubborn glimmer of _hopefully_ ) in love with John. But a saner part of him, the part that had benefitted enormously from the support of Atlantis’s latest psychologist Dr Kirkland, was simply looking for that cliched but true concept of _closure._

It turned out that saying goodbye to someone this important via video message _wasn’t_ the brilliant and definitive full stop that Rodney had been looking for. He had known it was cowardly not to say these things to John’s face – all the things, good and bad, that he needed to say. But he’s autistic, dammit, and communication with other humans is fucking hard, not least with a human who is objectively worse at communicating than he is himself. He wasn’t sure who he owed it to but he had a sense of something outstanding. Maybe he owed it to himself, maybe to John, but somehow he knew he had to look John once in the eyes and say goodbye.

And, he reminded himself, it really would be goodbye, because by January 2nd, 2013, the distance between two galaxies would be lying between them, and this was not going to change, because recent decisions would make it impossible for himself and Colonel John Sheppard to both be on Atlantis.

He took his coffee and perched for a moment at the bar seating in the shop window, looking into the dim shop and away from the mayhem of the street outside. The acoustics in the shop were good – lots of wood seemed to absorb the noise of the machines, and the piped music was gentle and softened everything. Rodney sipped his coffee and breathed, watching the pink-haired person and feeling just happy they existed. His mind slipped back to Atlantis, a place with perfect acoustics, a city that was sensory heaven, floating on an ocean of calm. A place he would be seeing again in just over a week.

The plot twist, the turn of events that had fitted beautifully with his own career trajectory whilst upending John’s, still made his stomach flip over.

Rodney McKay was going back to Atlantis, but John never could. He was Earth-side for good. The US Military had finally been kicked out, replaced by a UN force, supported by the all-new UN Space Corps. Finally, someone had realised the accumulation of power and technology by the US was Not a Good Thing and done something about it. Which meant Rodney could continue his work on Atlantis knowing it really was for the benefit of humanity, and he no longer needed to worry that his scientific discoveries would buy America world domination through show of strength as the work of Oppenheimer had before him.

Maybe the UN was shutting the stable door after that horse had bolted, and maybe the US could afford to play nice because it already had all the power, but it was good to see someone stand up to Canada’s bully-boy neighbour and, quite frankly, it was nice to have his old job back.

About half way down his bucket-sized coffee to go, Rodney was finally ready to move his feet to the taxi stand, and he began to feel excited to see his sister and the kids. The sooner he got there, the more time he would have without John there.

Rodney was going back to Atlantis, and there would be no John Sheppard there. If John did come to the Miller Christmas Thing, then it would be the chance for them to say all they needed to say, face to face. Maybe they could have a chance to say goodbye. Maybe John would manage an apology better than his half-assed “Fuck. I’m sorry” email. Although for John that was pretty eloquent, so he wasn’t holding out much hope of better.

Maybe he had apologies of his own to make? He was certain there was _a lot_ he was missing and although it was a very faint hope that any communication between him and John Sheppard would be enlightening, he could always dream.

And no, he was most certainly not dreaming of just seeing John again in all his ridiculous beauty. He was not thinking of John’s lips, which he had never kissed. They’d fucked, yeah, a fair amount, but kissed? Never. Rodney had longed to, but there was a shield around Sheppard’s lips so strong he could have made a fortune if he harnessed its power. He certainly wasn’t thinking about John’s cock, which he had come to know intimately. He wasn’t thinking about John’s lanky frame, or the way his spine didn’t seem to have enough rigidity, leaving him constantly leaning and slouching. Or his pale hazel eyes as they spoke of stuff he never said out loud. Or the astonishing strength of his muscles as he hauled Rodney onto his . . .

Dammit. This was _not_ the frame of mind to go into an encounter with John Sheppard, especially not Newly Out John Sheppard; No Longer Closeted and In Fear of Leavenworth John Sheppard; Founder of Atlantis LGBT+ Society John Sheppard.

Okay, that piece of information had somewhat turned over his steadfast belief that John would never change, and all was hopeless. That bit of information was weaving itself around his heart _and_ his cock in ways he was not at all happy about.

The taxi drew up outside the Millers’, and Rodney folded himself out of the back seat, slinging his hold-all over his shoulder. He shoved double the fare in the driver’s hand and turned to the house, taking a breath.

His brain helpfully reminded him of his more ordinary predicament: Autistic. Socially Anxious. People Scare Me.

 _But they’re people you love, Rodney_ , he reminded himself.

Madison was the first person to run out and greet him. She was wearing earrings, make-up and ultra-trendy clothes, and Rodney’s heart sank.

 _She’ll be too cool to hang out with fuddy old Uncle Mer_ _for at least a decade_ , he thought sadly, as he saw her teenage years approaching at hyperspeed and remembered how much he missed from two galaxies away.

‘Uncle Mer!’ Mads cried, flinging herself around him to his utter surprise. He warmed, and found himself picking her up off her feet, as he had been doing for many years.

‘Oh,’ he said, putting her down again quickly, ‘I guess you’re getting too old for that, huh?’ But Mads frowned at that.

‘I don’t think so, no,’ she said thoughtfully, looping her arm in his. ‘Come on, Dad and Bradley made pancakes for breakfast, and Uncle John just arrived.’

Rodney discovered it was possible for his heart to leap upwards and simultaneously for his stomach to plummet downwards. For a second, his feet didn’t move, but Mads pulled him onward insistently.

‘Oh.’ Was all he managed to say. He had thought there would be time to prepare for John’s arrival. The “Thing” didn’t start til the afternoon, and he was here for a family breakfast, some time with the kids, some furniture moving and setting up for the arrival of people, the playing of games, the eating of food and general relaxed chaos of the Miller Christmas Thing.

‘Look who’s here!’ Mads shouted up the stairs.

‘Mer!’ Jeannie ran down and flung herself at her brother even more enthusiastically than Mads had. Rodney still couldn’t quite believe it, but he and Jeannie had become close. Since coming home, they talked on the phone most weeks, and she had been helpful and kind about his autism diagnosis, taking it both as the monumental revelation it was and at the same time making it something small and manageable and easy and light.

He found he did not want to leave the embrace. Somehow, touching was easier now he realised that he was allowed to feel overwhelmed by it. Sometimes, lots of feeling was nice, and sometimes too much and he just needed to shut down or run away. Hugging his sister, her kids, was more than perfect, in a way that made his skin and heart sing.

Jeannie stepped back, her hands still clutching Rodney’s arms. ‘John’s here.’

‘I know.’ His look attempted to stab her, but her eyes absorbed the impact coolly and she smiled.

‘It’ll be okay, you two will kiss and make up.’

Huh. The more she knew. John Sheppard doesn’t kiss. At least, he doesn’t kiss men (just fucks them occasionally).

He hadn’t told Jeannie much of anything about him and John, not ever, but John had tagged along more than a few times to Miller family gatherings. Rodney wanted to include him when John had little contact with his own family. He and Dave were getting somewhere, but not to the point where they did Christmas. A meal or two while they’d been in San Francisco, a couple of visits at times that weren’t holidays. But, he supposed, he had drawn John into the Miller net and he had no right to expect them to cast him out just because he had.

All Rodney had told Jeannie was that he and John were no longer in contact and that he needed a fresh start. He couldn’t be angry with her for still inviting John. And perhaps she instinctively realised things were not as tied up for him as he needed them to be. Yes, this was his chance for closure before going back to Pegasus. Time to say goodbye.

But first, hello. Or, in fact . . .

‘Hey.’ Said John, standing in the doorway from the kitchen. Leaning, of course. Eyes downcast, biting his lower lip.

‘Um. Hey.’ Said Rodney. Where had all the air gone?

‘Pancakes!’ Hollered four-year-old Bradley from behind John and Rodney hauled the air back into his lungs. Bradley ran past John’s legs and up to Rodney, who sank down and achieved the third successful hug of the morning, even though his heart was pounding in his chest like it wanted to get the hell out of there.

‘Uncle Mer, come and eat the pancake I made especially for you!’ Bradley took Rodney’s hand in his own sticky paw and led him into the kitchen past John, who had frozen in the doorway, quizzical eyes locked on Rodney from under his long lashes. The heat Rodney felt as he brushed past John’s body was excruciating. Rodney picked a chair and sat Bradley up beside him. He had carefully chosen so he was protected on the other side by Mads.  
  
He sat on his hands to stop them from shaking.

Quickly, the noise at the table became overwhelming. Bradley’s excitable chatter rising over Kaleb doling out the pancakes and everyone else all talking over each other, the clank of spoons in teacups, rustle of packets, the occasional slurp . . . noise was always harder to deal with when he was stressed, and Rodney hadn’t been this stressed since the last time he’d been trapped on a wraith hive ship. Possibly not even then, as at that time the experience was verging on the everyday. And at least it was quiet, hive ships having terrific acoustics . . .

‘Uncle Mer!’

‘Oh, sorry Bradley I, um . . .’

‘I said I made this one for you!’ Rodney looked down and saw a pancake that was oddly reminiscent of the mainland on the original Lantea. He smiled at Bradley.

‘It’s awesome, Brad, really awesome, thank you.’ But he knew his face was tight and he was trying not to wince, trying even harder not to get up and run out.

‘Is it the noise, Mer?’ Jeannie asked quietly, after coming to his side. ‘It’s ok to take a breather. Or you can borrow Brad’s ear defenders?’

Rodney half-smiled gratefully at his sister. ‘Music helps, actually,’ he said, ‘You think it would just add to the problem, but it kind of smoothes everything else out.’

Jeannie squeezed his arm and went over to the docking station, selecting a mellow playlist. ‘Better?’ Rodney nodded. She was back at his side. ‘Shit, Mer, all those times you bit at people when it got all busy, I never knew what it was like for you. I’m sorry.’ Another hug, and he caught John’s still-quizzical glance from across the table.

Everyone settled down around and tucked into their cinnamon apple pancakes. Rodney felt the combined anxiety from John’s presence and the sensory overwhelm that came with his autism slowly ebbing away. He now understood that he used food as a “stim”, a good sensory feeling that gave him comfort and supported him through difficulties. As he munched the (okay, yummy, even if they were vegan) pancakes he focused on getting his breathing back to normal and allowed himself to zone out just a little bit, keeping his eyes on his food and off John.

Well, his eyes might have skipped once or twice over to John’s long fingers as he sat quietly eating. His mind might have equally casually skipped over all the places on his body those fingers had been, which was, well, everywhere.

 _Just stop it,_ he chided himself.  
  
Suddenly everyone was quiet, and Rodney was unsure if it was the “we’re all enjoying eating” kind of quiet or the “nobody knows what to say” kind of quiet. Rodney never knew what to say, and once upon a time that would have been his cue to _try harder_ and end up waffling or saying something utterly inappropriate. One good thing about his diagnosis was he let himself off the hook a lot more. If he didn’t know what to say, maybe he’d just sit and eat and let others talk. Eventually, Kaleb bravely attempted to start a conversation with John.

‘So John,’ says Kaleb, ‘I hear you’re going to be back on Ear . . . er, stateside soon.’

_Crap, we’re talking about this._

‘Yeah, can’t say much, but the US military has left . . . the base. I’m already home. So, me n Rodney are swapping over.’ They both glanced up at each other simultaneously and John gave Rodney a weak smile.

_And he’s heard I’m going back._

‘John, you must be sad to be leaving?’ Jeannie asked.

‘Personally, yeah, but it was the right call. It was time. The whole program needs to widen its horizons and get outa the clutches of Uncle Sam.’

‘Will Woolsey stay?’ Jeannie inquired.

‘Actually no.’

Rodney looked up at this, surprised. Woolsey had recruited him, and he assumed would be his boss once again. He had grudgingly come to respect the man, especially for the moves he pulled to get them home to Pegasus when Atlantis was stuck on Earth.

‘Yeah,’ John said, meeting Rodney’s eyes. ‘He had a run-in with some old _friends_ and needed to come home for some extended R&R. He’ll be okay, but I don’t think he’ll go back. Teyla’s been running the shop but doesn’t want the job permanently. Actually, they struggled to recruit, but the woman who’s got the job, a brit, Doctor Priya Mirchandani, she seems sound, and highly qualified. Cut from the same cloth as Elizabeth, a tough-as-nails diplomat with an academic background. She starts the same day as you, Rodney.’

Suddenly, Rodney had the oddest sense of vertigo, like the ground was falling away from underneath him. Ever since he had agreed to return to Pegasus, he had felt like he was returning home, but now he could not feel a connection to Atlantis at all, and he suddenly wondered why on earth he was going, apart from the obvious urge to maintain two galaxies’ distance between himself and the Colonel.

And yet, the thought of Atlantis without John made him feel suddenly sick.

‘And what will you do now, John?’ Kaleb asked.

‘Surfing. You would not believe the amount of leave I have accumulated. Gonna be in Australia three days hence catching waves until I get bored. Then we’ll see.’

John was looking down at the last of his pancakes, so Rodney allowed himself to take a really good look. Yes, something in John had softened, and it wasn’t just the effect of the extra grey at his temples or the increasing crinkles around his eyes. But then, Rodney reminded himself that the softer, queerer, geekier John was always available in certain company, and there were no hardass military types in the vicinity, nor six and a half food Satedans. _So don’t be lulled into a false sense of security._

‘Will you stay in?’ Kaleb inquired.

John went quiet for a bit, as if considering this, but his answer made Rodney drop his fork with a clatter.

‘Already out.’

‘What??’

‘Yeah.’ And John met Rodney’s eyes for a moment, before turning back to Kaleb. ‘I really just went in for the flying, never thought I’d make it to full bird and honestly, all that’s ahead of me is politics and administration in an environment that still doesn’t look that kindly on an openly gay officer, for all the hype. I was only really staying for Atla – um, for that last job, and it’s done now. So, I retired, and took my remaining time in as holiday.’ Another glance back at Rodney. ‘Besides, I think the military was turning me into a bit of an asshole.’ John looked across at Bradley and back to Jeannie with a stricken look. ‘Oh god, I’m sorry, my language.’

Jeannie snorted and Kaleb smiled. ‘They’ve heard worse.’

Rodney’s mouth was open. Surely that was the most words John Sheppard had spoken at once? And fuck, they were words that _mattered._ The table went silent again, and Rodney just gaped at John until he smirked a little awkwardly.

‘Congratulations, by the way.’ Jeannie said, after a pause.

‘For?’

‘Your retirement, and your coming out. I seem to have missed that.’ Jeannie looked across at her brother as if he might have something to say, but he just shrugged.

‘Well, Bradley,’ said Rodney, loudly changing the subject, ‘those were damn fine pancakes. You’ll have to teach me how to make them.’

‘Daddy will show you, I just stirred and dolloped,’ said Bradley, looking pleased with himself.

‘Well, Kaleb, I hate to admit it but the vegan stuff is no longer tasting like cardboard, either I’m mellowing or it’s getting better.’

‘Meredith Rodney McKay mellowing! The very idea!’ Jeannie exclaimed, and a ripple of laughter swept the room, which Rodney enthusiastically joined. _This_ kind of fond teasing he could totally get behind. But then he looked at John, who sat, tight-lipped, looking down at his hands.

 _Oh my god, I’ve broken him,_ thought Rodney, as he suddenly remembered all the times John had teased him and it had been knowing, affectionate. He missed that. It didn’t change the fact that sometimes, especially that last year, John’s teasing had been humiliating and cruel, but he realized it had not always been like that, and certainly not all the time.

Jeannie looked at John, and looked at her brother, whose eyes were fixed on the top of John’s head where it hung dejectedly.

‘This is ridiculous!’ She said, pushing her chair back and leaning across to grab Rodney’s arm.

‘C’mon, Mer.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Just, come with me.’ She dragged him round to the other side of the table, where she grabbed John’s arm in her other hand. ‘And you.’ He hesitantly got to his feet and allowed himself to be pulled along. Jeannie was a force of nature, best not to try and fight her.

She dragged them firmly to the study at the other end of the hall and deposited them by the fireplace. Then she went to the door, took the key from the inside lock, and exited quickly, shouting ‘for fuck’s sake, talk! I’ll be back in an hour,’ as she turned the key in the lock from the outside.

The pair stood at either end of the garish fireside rug, breathing somewhat heavily and looking at their shoes.

The grief that he had been fighting off since he left Atlantis back in July finally caught up with Rodney. Somehow, the fact that he was going back only made it more acute. Because this really was goodbye. He really was letting go of this thing that had meant so much to him, and despite what he had said in his video to John, despite the complete truth of every word he had said, _so much_ of it, of them, had been good.

Normally, this is where he would have started talking, filling the silence until the right, or probably wrong, words came out, talking over John’s inability to say anything at all and his own inability to say the important things at the right times and to the right people.

‘Um.’ Was all he could manage.

‘I’m sorry.’ John croaked out, staring fixedly at the rug. Rodney raised his eyes and just . . . stared, not knowing what to do or say. _This is where you say the things you need to say to get closure, idiot._ He chided himself, but it didn’t loosen his tongue.

John’s head slowly raised as if feeling Rodney’s eyes on him. His eyes looked a little wild.

‘I’m sorry.’ He said again, his gaze holding Rodney’s fast. There went all the air, again. Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

And then, John crossed the rug to where Rodney stood, and brought his hands up to the back of Rodney’s head, bowing forehead to forehead in an Athosian greeting.

‘I’m sorry.’ He said again, and each time he said it there seemed to be new layers of meaning in those two words. This time, Rodney could hear among other things _I’m sorry for what I did, and I’m sorry for what I’m about to do . . ._ and just as Rodney was wondering what John was about to do that he needed to apologise for, John kissed him.

Just a brush of lips, tender and sweet and chaste. Rodney froze. John drew back, his oh gosh, ever so slightly teary eyes had their gaze still locked on Rodney’s. And suddenly Rodney realized with alarming clarity that although no, he hadn’t been overtly humiliating John what he _had_ done was a lot of this – a lot of freezing, and not responding, waiting to be more certain, until the moment had passed and he had left John alone in his tentative, fragile reaching out.

‘I’m sorry too,’ said Rodney quickly, shaking himself urgently from his immobility.

And he reached up to John’s face, running his thumb across John’s cheek and kissed John back. Still tender, but not quite so chaste. John’s perfect lips were oh, so responsive to his own. Their mouths opened to each other, tongues sneaking inside as their arms slid around one another tightly and their chests pressed close. One of John’s arms pulled at his waist, the other slid up his neck and into his hair.

It wasn’t quite sexual, although soon every bit of them was pressed together. They had had sex before, but they had never kissed. The primary urge now, despite both their cocks swelling against each other, was simply to never stop devouring each other’s mouths, sharing the same breath until they were gasping. After twenty minutes or so, Rodney, genuinely weak at the knees, dragged John across to the little couch, pulling him down and twining himself back around him without once allowing their lips to part.

It was oddly innocent, after all the very _un_ -innocent things they had done together over the years. Reminiscent of two teenagers necking on the family couch, shyly sneaking inside each other’s clothes, but not too far, mainly focused on the sensation of mouths and tongues and hands and necks. Neither of them came, they didn’t seem to want to, just drove each other crazy with wanting, and gently nibbled down each other’s necks, afraid to leave marks.

They never did talk, and by the end of the hour when Jeannie came back to find them still necking, Rodney had to admit this goodbye felt a lot more like a hello.

But in just over a week, Rodney was going to be two galaxies away, and the goodbye would still have to happen.


	2. Actually Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was Jeannie’s kitchen table magic or something? Where were all these words coming from? How did John suddenly get so expressive?

‘So John what are your plans for the rest of Christmas? Are you going to bite the bullet and see Dave?’ Jeannie asked as they took a coffee break after shifting back furniture in the living room to make space for party guests. Kaleb had taken Mads and Bradley on a last-minute run to the store.

John ducked his head and fiddled with the back of his hair, a familiar movement Rodney now recognised as a stim.

‘That means he doesn’t have plans and he doesn’t want to say so,’ Rodney interpreted.

‘So what, you were going to spend Christmas alone in some hotel?’

The no-longer-Colonel looked sheepish. ‘Something like that,’ he mumbled.

Jeannie looked at Rodney, and Rodney nodded.

‘So, you’ll stay here. Mer won’t mind sharing.’

‘Oh. Um.’ Rodney panicked.

‘I’d love to stay, but could I maybe sleep on the pull-out in the study?’ John asked. ‘We, er, still haven’t talked everything through yet.’

Rodney blushed. The time that they were supposed to be talking had passed entirely with them making out like high schoolers, and really there was still so much to say and so little ability between the two of them to actually say any of it.

‘Oh. Of course!’ But Jeannie just looked confused. She looked from John to Rodney and back again and sagged. ‘Okay, when I saw you an hour ago you were all over each other, so what’s going on?’

They both just stared at their feet.

Jeannie poured out three cups of coffee and handed them round. ‘Come sit a minute, you two, I need to understand what’s going on. If you won’t talk to me, mind if I ask you some questions? We’ve got time.’

John looked oddly relieved at the prospect for a second, but then hunched over his coffee at the kitchen table taking sideways glances at Rodney, who sat on the diagonal from him and across from Jeannie.

‘Okay,’ Jeannie began. ‘Firstly, I think I got something wrong. I assumed for years that you two were together, and that it was just secret because of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, but now I think maybe I have that wrong somehow.’

‘We weren’t together,’ said Rodney.

‘We were together,’ said John at the same time. They looked at each other helplessly.

‘Oh, boy,’ said Jeannie, rolling her eyes. ‘So I guess this means you had _something_ , but you differ as to what it qualifies as, and I’m guessing the military was at least a part of why it couldn’t be more, plus maybe your unique communication skills.’

John just nodded without looking up.

‘We never even kissed until this morning,’ sighed Rodney.

‘But you brought him home for Christmas three times, Mer, and other times too, pretty much whenever you were home.’ Jeannie said gently. ‘And we could all see the way the two of you are. How you . . . love each other.’

‘I do,’ said John.

_Say it, damn it, say it! Stop saying “me too” and “I do” and actually say the words!_

‘I love you, Rodney.’ John said, grabbing his hand across the table. Rodney nearly choked on his coffee.

‘Me too,’ Rodney replied, in somewhat of a state of shock.

‘But Jeannie, I really _really_ fucked up, and I don’t know if I can ever make things right,’ John continued, letting go of Rodney’s hand with a look of guilt and uncertainty on his face. ‘I treated Rodney like crap in order to hide who I was, even after they repealed DADT. It can’t be undone and if I was Rodney I wouldn’t forgive me.  And the fact is, he only let it slide without a fight that I was coming here because he knows he needed to say goodbye to my face, not just in a very eloquent, heartbreaking, but entirely necessary and accurate video message.’

Was Jeannie’s kitchen table magic or something? Where were all these words coming from? How did John suddenly get so expressive?

Jeannie was flicking Rodney’s upper arm and looking at him with outrage.

‘You dumped him by video message? Mer how could you?’

‘Hey! We weren’t together!’

‘No, we weren’t together,’ John said. ‘We sorta had been on and off before, but not since Jennifer. When I was last here, Christmas 2010, Rodney was still with Jennifer but things were cooling, hence I guess why he brought me home for Christmas not her. Which was fine by me. I mean, I had thought from my glimpse of the future that Rodney and Jennifer were meant to be, but it didn’t seem to be working out that way. DADT was in the process of being repealed, and I wanted there to be a chance for us,’ John looked up at Rodney. ‘So I started to try and hint at wanting things to happen. But I got stuck. I think . . . you understandably didn’t trust me enough to show your hand just a little bit, and I felt alone, exposed and angry.’

John quieted for a moment, and Jeannie reached to her side to brush his arm. Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but Jeannie just looked at him, and he closed it again.

‘Actually, the weight of the expectation on me to come out after they repealed DADT was heavier than the weight of hiding,’ John eventually continued, ‘I’ve had my life sucked away by a wraith and been prepared to detonate a nuclear bomb without hope of escaping its blast, but I need to tell you,’ he held Rodney’s gaze as he spoke now, ‘coming out as gay in the military is the scariest thing I ever did. And for a while there I acted like a dick about it.’

John took a breath and sagged, a look of profound regret on his face. ‘No, all the way through I acted like a dick, to be honest.’

‘But you were in the military! It wasn’t your fault!’ Jeannie tried to reassure him.

‘I chose to be in the military knowing I was gay. Not even bi like Rodney, I’m down the line gay as fuck. The only time I’ve ever genuinely been attracted to a woman, she turned out to be an ascended ancient who was making the _whole city_ vibrate around her. I thought it was just me. Other times I’ve been carried along by other people’s feelings or my own denial, like with Nancy and Teer, but there was nothing there on my side.’ He half-smiled another apology at Rodney, and Rodney wondered for a moment how long he was going to make John keep apologizing. A while yet, probably.

‘So it’s my fault, 100%.’ John said firmly, looking back to Jeannie. ‘No excuses. I am trying real hard to put my life on a better track, but I can’t undo what I did. I was a bully.’ John looked levelly into Rodney’s eyes as he said this, and Rodney felt something in him unclench and let go of a hurt he had been carrying for a long time.

‘I forgive you, John.’ He said and found that he meant it wholeheartedly. ‘I stand by what I said in my message, but at the same time I wish I’d gone another way about it.’

‘Don’t,’ John shook his head, ‘That message changed my life. I needed to hear it, and it needed to hit me hard. It was my wakeup call and I’m nothing but grateful.’ He reached out to put his hand back over Rodney’s and Rodney closed his other hand over John’s.

‘But what happens now?’ Rodney’s voice was suddenly small and tight. ‘I’m going back to Pegasus without you!’ And for all its beautiful acoustics and the fact of being thousands of light years from a shopping mall, Atlantis had suddenly, utterly, lost its appeal.

‘When are you going?’

‘January 2nd.’

‘Then can we, maybe, be together until then?’ John looked like he was holding his breath. Rodney thought about that for no more than a second, and then turned to his sister.

‘Jeannie, I think perhaps we will share after all,’ said Rodney.


	3. Galaxies Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Rodney get a little romantic time alone and then Rodney ships out to Pegasus. While Rodney's away, John inevitably gets himself into trouble.

Rodney sat in his and John’s old spot on the pier looking out at the mauve-tinged ocean of Lantea 3. The city was in constant motion to the planet’s vicious tides, but the city’s size softened them to a gentle roll that was like being constantly rocked. It brought an autistic man a great deal of comfort.

‘Rodney?’ It was Teyla, her little girl Charyn hooked over a hip, five-year-old Torren holding her other hand.

When Rodney had first returned, Teyla’s eyes had filled with grief every time she saw him. ‘It’s you without John, I do not think I can bear it.’ She eventually told him, causing tears to rise in his own eyes. ‘It was similar when you left, but somehow it did not feel so final. I feel the wind has changed and everything is different.’

Now, Teyla was more focused on the grief in Rodney, seeing him pining for John the way she told him John had pined for him for the last half a year. It seemed to frustrate her. ‘It is foolish when life is so short,’ she said impatiently. ‘There must be a way.’

But there hadn’t seemed to be.

***

That first Christmas Eve night after they kissed, after a long chilled out party with Miller friends and family, after reading Bradley a bedtime story, after letting Mads beat them both on the PlayStation, after bidding goodnight to Jeannie and Kaleb, they sat up at the Millers’ Magic Kitchen Table and talked and talked and talked. There had been some beer involved, but not so much they dissolved into drunken rambling. It was as if someone had blasted a dam way upstream and they could do nothing but be carried by the current.

They had always been friends, but some of what connected them had been their mutual reluctance or inability to say the things that mattered. Now, they fought past that and found themselves in an entirely new kind of relationship.

And that was the problem. This was new, brand new and they had no idea where things would go, even though they both knew what they wanted. Just like after Dorranda for John, it would take time for Rodney to learn to trust John again. It couldn’t be forced, and it couldn’t be rushed, and they only had a week. There was no way either of them could make the kind of life-altering plans that would keep them together, like Rodney giving up his job.

‘But you could get a job as a civilian contractor, maybe?’ Rodney looked hopeful.

But John shook his head. ‘I already asked.’ He grabbed Rodney’s hand and played with the fingers. ‘They won’t have me, Rodney. Woolsey fought my corner, but I’m too close to the US military and there’s folks that don’t trust me or my loyalties. They will never let me back.’

Rodney nuzzled against John’s soft, messy hair. It tickled his face in the nicest way. His body and heart were shouting YES but his brain was putting roadblocks up against every way forward.

He gave a rueful half-smile. ‘That leaves long distance.’

John’s lips were against his temple, hands raking through his hair. ‘I don’t think being in separate galaxies would work for _normal_ people, let alone for us.’

‘Okay,’ said Rodney, pulling back to look John in the eyes, ‘where does that leave us?’

‘With eight days.’

‘And then it’s over?’ Rodney’s heart clenched, but John looked even more stricken.

‘No. That is emphatically not what I’m saying, unless you want . . .’

Rodney shook his head vigorously.

‘Okay, what I’m saying is I _don’t know_ how to make this work with the cards we have, but I want to. I’m saying that, I dunno, while you’re away we won’t be _having_ a relationship, but it won’t be over.’

Rodney waved his hands excitedly. ‘Like a stasis field!’

‘Yeah, like that.’

‘Will we see other people?’

‘Rodney, I don’t care what you do and I don’t think that’s what matters,’ John said, massaging away the frown that had taken up residence on Rodney’s face, ‘but for what it’s worth, if I didn’t take up any of the abundant offers from assorted young marines after I came out that were so blatant even _I_ picked up the hint, and given how long it’s been since I even _looked_ at another guy, the evidence would suggest that I’m a one-man guy, even when that man is in another galaxy.’

‘Really?’ Rodney felt his eyes go really big. ‘Wow,’ he added, unsure how to express the surge of happy he felt at the news of just how much John was into him. He found himself smiling and John caught it. For a while, they just grinned at each other like they were on the really good drugs.

 

They moved over to the couch around 3 am, when the kitchen chairs got too much for their aging backs, or at least for Rodney’s aging back. They kissed some more in a sleepy way but they were reluctant to take it further, or take it upstairs. Suddenly it seemed important to for once not let their dicks get ahead of their hearts and their heads.

‘Anyway,’ said John, ‘If I’m going to be any use to you at all, if I’m going to become the trustworthy friend or anything else that you need, Rodney, then first I need to spend some quality time on my own with a surfboard so I can sort my head out.’

‘Oh god, you’re the stereotypical mid-life crisis man, dropping out of your high-powered job and trying to find yourself on a beach somewhere halfway across the globe! Seriously, if you come back with long hair and a bead necklace I will disown you.’ But secretly he knew John was probably right, that he needed some time to shake off the shackles of years of military life and find his centre.

‘No, you won’t, because I’ll also have a beach body and perfect tan.’ John grinned.

‘You already have a beach body,’ Rodney said as he ran his hand under the front of John’s shirt and kissed him some more.

Madison found them the next morning sprawled all over each other on the couch, still mercifully fully clothed, and fast asleep.

‘You two are cute for old people,’ she announced as their eyes flickered open and they wriggled themselves free of the tangle they’d created.

***

Rodney had warmed to the new Atlantean Mission Leader, Doctor Priya Mirchandani, straight away. He saw why John likened her to Weir, in character they had a similar grit and warmth. Mirchandani’s manner was direct, her humour sarcastic, which of course suited Rodney. Within five minutes of his first one to one meeting with her, he had told her he was autistic and some of the things he needed in order to be managed effectively. Mirchandani had fixed her intelligent eyes on him and nodded patiently.

‘Well of course, Rodney,’ Priya said in her crisp English accent, ‘if we cannot accommodate a small thing like a disability, then we have no right to think we can meddle in big things, like the affairs of another galaxy, do we? And no, I do not mean your disability is small to you, just that it is easily accommodated if we just show a little maturity and insight. Please come to me if you have any problems and I will make sure they are addressed. Let’s have you working at maximum capacity.’

Rodney settled at this and allowed himself to breathe a little deeper.

‘Now, have you read the new Atlantis Mission Strategy Report I emailed you?’ Dr Mirchandani continued.

Rodney had read the report and been impressed by it. The report had been the nail in the coffin for the US military in Atlantis, criticizing their gung-ho interventionism. The report described an inexperienced and under-prepared expedition, which led to significant errors. This could be rectified with a considerable increase in expertise and a culture of consultation. It was also essential, the report said, that there was substantial input from the indigenous people of Pegasus, who had been woefully under-utilised and excluded.

Rodney winced at how the report specifically criticized John's inexperience, but supposed it was partly fair. He knew Weir had insisted on keeping John on not necessarily because he was the best person for the job, but because they got on and he was much less bullish, egotistical and unwilling to listen to a woman than, say, Sumner or Caldwell. She had wanted to maintain control. John knew this himself, but at the time was so in love with Atlantis he didn’t question the position he had been put in. For a long time he was more suited to leading a small team or engaging in solitary acts of heroism than being a military commander.

In later years that changed. Rodney recognised some of the ideas in this report, although probably written by Woolsey, had originated in John’s more long-term strategic thinking from these last three years. He had managed to manoeuvre them ahead of the wraith by becoming less reactive and more devious. The wraith were still a huge threat to the people of this galaxy, but finally lives were being saved in significant numbers.

The report also made it clear that Atlantis should belong to the Pegasus galaxy and Earth did not have the right to endanger Pegasus citizens or plunder its resources for their own benefit.

‘As you see from the report,’ Dr Mirchandani continued, ‘The new Atlantis approach is based far more on collective wisdom and less on the output of brilliant individuals.’

Dr Mirchandani suddenly skewered Rodney with her gaze, and her voice became even more crisp, if that were possible.

‘I think it’s important we make that culture shift _explicit._ I know from your history, Rodney, that might be a challenge, so I want you to think about how you work best within a team, what helps you listen to others and how we can curb your little habit of telling people they are stupid. Because Rodney, nobody on Atlantis is stupid and no single brain can hold all the variables or see things from all the angles.’

She continued, a little more gently.

‘I won’t ask you to be someone you are not, Rodney, but I do want to help get the best out of you and your team. Let me know how that is to be accomplished.’

Well, fuck. It seemed like Rodney’s entire life right now as about learning to have better relationships. He knew John would be pissing himself if he were here.

He could have felt patronized, but Mirchandani’s way of seeing to the heart of him without judgement and speaking plainly about it was hugely comforting to Rodney. He knew where he was with this woman.

***

By Boxing Day Rodney and John were ensconced in a little rental cabin just far enough into the wilds for quiet, just near enough to restaurants and shops to be almost convenient. There was snow on the ground but it was that not-very-serious snow that Canadians just laughed at.

John had clung to Jeannie for a good minute when they left, and that alone told Rodney just how much he had changed. It had been a seriously amazing Christmas.

They hiked. For fun. This, Rodney supposed, is what happens when you start to miss regular yomps across various other planets. Rodney was loving the snow, and the way John disappeared within the top-of the-range outerwear they had hastily bought on their way over. They couldn’t kiss out there because their faces were mostly buried, but they held hands through thick gloves, and rubbed noses like Inuit.

And still, talked. About everything. About things that had happened on Atlantis and how they had felt at the time, thoughts they had never admitted. They even talked about _feelings._ It was weird, and weirdly addictive, a bit like kinky sex, transgressive but oh, so good.

They dined in the same local restaurant every night, testing to see if anyone was freaked out by their hands held across the table, but nobody was. They acted like they had all the time in the world, savouring the food, the wine. Smiling stupidly at each other and being ridiculously pleased at how romantic it all was. Back home, they stretched out in front of a log fire and dozed lazily.

***

Rodney had settled back into Atlantean life quickly enough. He hung out with a few old faces – Teyla, Ronon (who missed John as much as he and Teyla did), Carson, Radek, and Miko, but many more were long gone. Amelia was one of a very few military to have moved over to a civilian contract and stayed on. The population of Atlantis had swelled again, and this time not only were there new faces from the UN, there were citizens of many Pegasus planets now involved in a more meaningful way in the decisions and work that would affect their galaxy.

Everyone had been given cultural awareness training and even Rodney had learned not to make belittling remarks like calling Ronon “Conan the barbarian”. Rodney of course had not realized he was being subtly racist in doing this, but he did now, and was mortified. It had been another classic case of him trying to fit in with neurotypical people’s joking around and missing by a mile.

Mirchandani had made Ronon Head of Offworld Liaison. Instead of fixed gate teams, Ronon would pick people for offworld missions appropriate to the task in hand, a much more efficient use of resources. McKay went offworld much less, but Ronon made sure he kept up his weapons training and fitness because even now when you went through the gate anything might happen.

Teyla was now Dr Mirchandani’s deputy, having been encouraged by Woolsey to apply for the Mission Leader’s role, gone through the interview process but then withdrawn. Rodney did not really understand why, but he suspected the long legacy of being treated as an outsider had made her reluctant to think she would be given the respect that was her due. God, if he had suffered from bullying around his autism, what had Teyla suffered? How she still treated Earthers with so much respect and patience he would never know. He knew he did not have it in him to have so much grace.

They made a good team, Mirchandani and Teyla – Mirchandani and _Emmagen_ , he should say. It was good to see Teyla’s wisdom and skills as a negotiator being nurtured and fully employed. The two women had a warm relationship that spilled out to all those around them, but there was no getting away from the fact that they were both completely badass in their own ways.

 

John emailed him every day. They were long, for John, with attachments that were anything from doodles to a snap of a lizard, a strange plant, an amusing menu typo, a weird looking dog. No selfies, and Rodney quickly missed John’s face, but did not know how to ask. ‘Send pictures of yourself so I can look at you’ was too weird. Instead, Rodney printed off a picture of all of them that Kaleb had taken at Christmas.

John chronicled the minutiae of his very samey beach bum days and Rodney was riveted.  
  
With three full ZedPMs and the facility to charge them, the data burst through the wormhole from SGC was a daily occurrence while travel home to Earth was instantaneous, albeit with a 24-hour quarantine currently in place that put commuting out of reach. It would not have been that hard to have occasional breaks Earth-side, had Rodney been able to find the time in his increasingly busy schedule. He knew he could make time, though. He just wasn’t sure if he went home to John that he would be able to once again prize himself out of John’s surprisingly clingy arms when he had to return to Pegasus. That had been the most heartbreaking moment of his life, letting go of John and convincing his uncooperative heart that it was the grown-up thing to get on the plane to Colorado.

He didn’t want to visit, he wanted John to be _here._ He supposed in time they might figure something out, it would get easier, somehow. Maybe if they lifted the stupid quarantine regs, which everyone knew were pointless. But for now, he lapped up John’s daily missives, sending less interesting ones in return, he thought, although of course John wanted to hear everything that was allowable to tell about Atlantis and the Pegasus galaxy.

***

John quickly got bored with being a beach bum. By February he had put in an application to join Médecins Sans Frontières and before the beginning of March he was flying an air ambulance in Somalia.

_I’m seeing some things here, Rodney. Seeing war from a different side. Not even allowed to hold a gun, I just pick up the pieces. Literally, sometimes. You’re going to worry about me but I find it weirdly fulfilling and not as traumatic as it probably ought to be. Also, I feel useful and not in a morally ambiguous way._

_Good to be at the controls of a chopper again, too. I can rise up above it all until it disappears below and there’s just sky . . ._

_I may be an adrenaline junkie but I guess you already knew that – or maybe it’s part of the ADHD that I need to be always doing. And it needs to matter too. This is pretty cool and maybe one of the more meaningful (if totally unpaid) bits of my career but Rodney, god I miss it there. Not all I miss, but that bit’s against the rules so I won’t say it._

They had agreed not to torture themselves with anything remotely romantic, having figured out that while apart, they couldn’t be more than friends. By this point Rodney was fairly sure they both knew the plan was bullshit and they were no more “just good friends” than they were “casual acquaintances”, but it was still impossible to have an actual relationship over email and he had no more idea now than back in December how to make anything work. When it came to John, he was just enduring, and it was hell.

By June, MSF had cottoned onto the fact that John was an ex-commander of a military base and wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon, and they had him in a more organizational role.

_Okay, now this is a challenge – I have a millionth of the budget I had over there and they expect miracles. All run on a shoestring and goodwill, but we’re saving lives, Rodney, one at a time through hard graft and it feels good. No easy solutions, just cleaning up a big old mess and all I have to do is make it go as smoothly as it can in crazy conditions, which I’m good at. All spreadsheets and math so in my element. Insisted they still let me take the chopper up, though (picture attached)._

John probably didn’t mean to scare him but after years of seeing the kind of shiny machines that belong to the US military, John’s chopper looked like it should be sold for scrap.

By August, John finally remembered he was a multi-millionaire thanks to his inheritance and original trust fund, and that he had very little need for most of his money, given he had only spent a fraction of his Atlantis back pay. There had never been much in Pegasus to spend it on, nor time to spend it.

_So, I just bought this place a fucking hospital and that feels kinda awesome :) May become a habit! _

_Will you still love me when I’m poor?_

_PS knight to queen's bishop 3_

After news about Zelenka’s annoying lab habits, Carson’s continuing sea fishing obsession, Ronon and Amelia’s on again/off again thing and Charyn’s first steps, Rodney added:

_I would still love you under any circumstances you can throw at me, I think we already established that pretty conclusively._

***

On the morning of December 28th in their little cabin, it suddenly hit them that half their time together was gone and soon John would put Rodney on a flight to Colorado, and himself on a rescheduled flight to Australia. Even though they had so little time together, they had taken things with glacial slowness. Despite the sense that their relationship was about to be propelled into the abyss, they were somehow working for a future they couldn’t see.

The thought of parting from John was like a freezing draft in a warm room. Rodney was doing his best not to think about it.

John brought through a tray of coffee and croissants from the kitchen and started to rekindle the fire in the hearth. Rodney watched his every move. They were both wearing matching unsexy check flannelette pajamas from the local store because the cabin was too cold at night for T shirts and boxers. John, of course, still looked hot as hell. They hadn’t yet got naked together, oddly other things had been a much bigger priority, all the things that they had never done in the past while they had been having admittedly amazing sex.

The fire caught quickly in a bed of last night’s embers, and John expertly stacked it so it would burn for a while. He washed his smoky hands and snuggled back under the covers against Rodney, pulling him in for a long kiss.

‘Um . . .’ said Rodney.

‘What’s on your mind, Mr Never Stops Thinking?’ John caressed his temple as if to somehow reach his thoughts.

‘That’s _Doctor_ Never Stops Thinking to you. And you’re right, I have been thinking.’ Rodney nervously circled his fingers over John’s hand.

‘Yeah? Should I be worried?’

‘I don’t imagine so. I’ve been thinking that maybe . . . only if you want . . .’

‘Spit it out, McKay.’ John grabbed his hand and held it fast.

‘We should not get out of bed today.’ Rodney felt his cheeks suddenly burning and it wasn’t the warmth from the fire.

‘Oh.’ Emotions flew across John’s face faster than the flames in the hearth flickered. Shocked morphed into nervous morphed into shy morphed into desire morphed into something intense and bright and sweet.

‘Rodney, are you initiating sex?’ John’s face was suddenly very close to his.

‘Er . . . yes?’ Rodney replied, a little breathlessly.

‘Only you’ve never done that before,’ John’s breath warmed his lips.

‘Oh. Is it ok to though? Oh god, was it always ok to? Have I been stupidly and pointlessly missing out all these years?’

John nipped at Rodney’s lower lip. ‘Yes, Rodney, and worse still, you kinda gave me the impression you weren’t that into me. Pretty sure I would never have turned you down there buddy.’

Rodney gently knocked his head backwards against the headboard, and then grabbed John’s face and pulled him into a long kiss.

‘I’m into it! Oh, god, I’m so into it!’ Rodney said when they finally broke for air. He suddenly realized how hard he had been trying to play it cool with John all these years and not make himself look like a needy loser or a head over heels adolescent.

‘Erm, can I just say that I may have criminally under-expressed my long standing and overwhelming desire for your mind, body and soul.’

‘Really?’ John’s eyes sparkled.

‘Oh, Col- John, how do you manage to look like that and not realise half the world is lusting over you?’

‘I never see it coming.’

‘You really don’t, do you?’

‘McKay?’ John was unbuttoning Rodney’s pajamas, and it suddenly seemed like a really good idea to reciprocate.

‘Yes?’

‘Let’s get naked.’

‘Okay.’ He pushed John’s pajama shirt off his shoulders and ran little biting kisses from his upper arm to his neck, switching to the other side just for fairness. When he hit the spot just below John’s ear he elicited a sigh that was almost a whine, so he lingered there a while. Meanwhile, his hands were slipping down John’s torso and under his waistband. He slid down John’s body, trailing kisses in the soft almost-pelt of John’s chest, and following the happy trail downwards, as his hands carefully pushed John’s pants down his thighs.

‘Fuck, I really wanna suck you,’ said John, looking down at Rodney as Rodney eyed John’s gorgeous cock hungrily.

‘Hey, you literally stole my line!’

‘I know.’ John flashed a wicked grin. ’69?’

Rodney’s eyes widened. ‘We’ve never done that.’ There weren’t very many things they could say that about.

‘I know.’ John licked his lips and reached for the waistband of Rodney’s pants, pulling them down slowly, kissing the revealed skin as he went, but carefully avoiding Rodney’s erection. He left little spots of fire wherever his lips touched, and Rodney’s sighs and heavy breaths increased with each kiss. As soon as Rodney was naked, John pulled back from his teasing kisses and gave him a long, careful appraisal.

‘You’re so fucking hot, McKay.’

‘Really?’ Rodney asked incredulously.

‘Really.’ And now John was kissing up Rodney’s inner thigh and Rodney remembered where he was and what he was doing, because for a second there he had gone spinning off into space at the sudden realization that John Sheppard was really gone on him.

He finished pulling off John’s pants and shed his unbuttoned shirt, then shifted on the bed so that they were side by side, top to tail, nice and close to the edge with the fire so their skin was warmed by the flames. He nipped along John’s hip bone and then giggled nervously.

‘I’ve totally never done this.’

‘Me either!’

And then John licked his tongue the length of Rodney’s shaft and Rodney moaned shamelessly.

‘Feels kinda first time-ey, huh?’ Said John with surprising shyness.

‘Kinda, yes,’ Rodney breathed hot air all the way along John’s length, and then softly put his mouth over the head, running his finger underneath to push it up into his mouth.

‘Fuck, yeah,’ said John and closed his own mouth over the head of Rodney’s cock, applying light suction and fondling his balls at the same time.

Rodney moaned around John’s cock and pulled it deeper into his mouth, gripping one hand round the base while the other reciprocated the fondling. He felt the vibration of Johns moan in response all the way through his body and he shivered in pleasure. By now they had a feedback loop going as every action had a reaction and a reaction to the reaction and a reaction to that in an unending circuit of bliss. It was almost overwhelming, but Rodney willingly gave himself over to the spiraling feelings.

Their first sex for four yeas wasn’t going to last long. Rodney was only hanging on because it was _so good_ he didn’t want it to end. But the things John was doing to him were unspeakably talented and Rodney could feel the sensations building like a chain reaction. Nuclear meltdown was imminent. And then John swallowed Rodney’s cock all the way down to the root and Rodney was lost.

Rodney had neither the desire nor the ability to compete with John’s mind-blowing deep-throating technique, but what Rodney lacked in minimal gag reflex he made up for in knowing John Sheppard’s body. As John pulled him all the way down with hard suction, Rodney used his last brain cell to strategize John’s undoing. He sucked a finger into the side of his mouth and got it good and wet. Then, trailing the other fingers behind John’s balls and along his perineum, Rodney slipped the moistened finger into John’s ass as he gently ran his teeth along the underside of John’s cock. John lost it, moaning loudly around Rodney’s cock and swallowing hard as he came in Rodney’s mouth, which was just enough to make Rodney come so hard the room spun.

He slowly came back to himself, kissing gently around John’s softening cock and then wriggling around until he was wrapped in John’s arms with a head on his chest. His breathing was heavy and he couldn’t speak. He didn’t think it was possible to be more blissed out than he was right now. A hard squeeze from John let him know the feeling was more than mutual. He scooted up John’s body a little further to kiss him, enjoying the mingling taste of both of them on their twining tongues.

 

When he regained the power of speech, which wasn’t for quite some time, Rodney said, ‘I have to know where you learned how to do that.’

‘On Atlantis,’ John replied with a lop-sided smile. His eyes looked dazed and happy.

‘What?? Who with??’ Rodney couldn’t help the pangs of jealousy.

‘Who do you think, Rodney? There’s only _been_ you.’

‘Wow!’ Rodney responded, and didn’t that just put a whole different spin on how he saw John. ‘Oh wait, do you mean on Atlantis, or . . . ?’

‘I mean that you’re the only guy I’ve gotten past the quick handjob stage with, and the only guy I’ve been with at all since I joined the military.’

‘Huh,’ said Rodney, ‘so the two guys I dated in college means _I’m_ the one with experience? I just automatically thought . . . ‘

‘Well I never said, did I? I was trying to play it cool, which in hindsight was pretty fucked up.’

‘Wait a sec, so that time after Dagan, where we found the ZedPM but they took it back into hiding . . .’

‘Where I was out of my mind jealous of that woman flirting with you? I remember.’

‘And where you saved your own life with math and it was so fucking hot . . .’

‘And when we got back I came to watch Kill Bill with you but by the end we were fucking?’

‘You fucked me insensible and then we fell asleep and when we woke you got me to fuck you. It was one of the best nights of my life.’ Rodney’s spent cock stirred at the memory.

‘Mine too.’ John said earnestly, pulling him closer. ‘And yes, Rodney, in answer to your unspoken question, it was my first time.’

‘Wow. Seriously, wow! I need to review a whole lot of assumptions based on this information. I really wish I’d known.’

‘I really wish I’d told you.’

‘And then for weeks we couldn’t get enough of each other. So what went wrong, John?’ Rodney couldn’t figure out how they had gone from being so hot for each other to cooling off completely until after he split with Katie.

‘From my perspective? You never initiated anything, you never kissed me, and then you started talking about Katie Brown, so I figured I was just a convenient screw and it would be best if you didn’t know I’d fallen for you.’ John looked sad and a bit wistful. ‘So, I backed off.’

‘Oh god,’ said Rodney. ‘Oh god, _I’m_ the arsehole!! John, I’m so sorry.’ What the hell had he been doing back then? Why had he dangled Katie Brown in front of John? To see how he would react? Why had he been so desperately insecure he had never given John any sign of how much he meant to Rodney? _You idiot, McKay, you complete fucking idiot._

‘S’okay, Rodney, we figured it out now.’

‘But, but, we’re _clever,_ how could we have been so stupid??’

‘We didn’t communicate.’

‘Okay, so let’s never do that again. Oh, and for the record? _You_ never kissed _me_!’

‘Rodney, is there some weird rule in your head that says I’m the kisser and you’re the kissee? And if so, could you please explain to me what that’s about?’

‘Well, you’re . . . and I’m . . .’ he waved his hands over both of them as if this answered everything.

‘Not helpful, McKay.’

‘I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.’ Rodney finally blurted out.

‘You have two PhDs, are the head of science on a project in another galaxy, you’re one of the smartest people on Earth, funny, witty and wise and also completely gorgeous but you thought you couldn’t match up to this failure of a flyboy who got where he got because he had some stupid gene and then his boss got the life sucked out of him? That’s some serious self-esteem issues you got there, Rodney.’

‘Is that how you see yourself, John? Jesus. Seems like I’m not the only one with self esteem issues. To me, you’re perfect. You’re amazing.’

‘I’m a dickhead and a bully,’ John reminded him.

‘Well, yes, at times, but only because you weren’t being yourself. Who you are is perfect. Who you pretended to be not so much. And we both know that last part is true of me too. But seriously, I had no idea how much harder I was making things for you. You were doing something pretty scary for the first time. I never supported you, never encouraged you, and never told you how I felt.’ He gave John a squeeze and kissed along the side of his face. ‘We both need to be shot for trying to play it cool, to be honest.’

‘Maybe we both have a bit of making up to do,’ said John, punctuating his words with little kisses. ‘Think we can?’

‘Certainly going to try,’ Rodney answered, suddenly wishing that he had much more time to make it up to John. How was he going to let this go?

 

They dozed for a bit, and then John said lazily, ‘so, you know how I’m a trained military strategist?’ There was a gleam in his eye that made Rodney go a little bit gooey.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Well, I think I have a plan. Only if you’re into it, though . . .’

‘Go on.’

‘So, it starts with lukewarm coffee and croissants.’ He slid on top of Rodney then, and looked into his eyes, ‘And then I want to watch your face while I fuck you, long and slow. And kiss you a whole load while I do it, because that’s another thing we’ve never done.’ He pressed his body firmly against Rodney’s and gave him a slow kiss. ‘Then we have lunch, then if our forty something bodies don’t let us down, you can fuck me however you want me.’

Rodney’s dick was already showing interest in this idea, but there was just one snag . . .

‘Nah. Won’t work.’

John’s face fell. ‘Why not?’

‘Because there is no way I am drinking lukewarm coffee. The rest of the plan? Perfect.’

Rodney kissed John again and then slid out of bed.  Wrapping himself in an unused blanket, he braved the chilly kitchen to fetch fresh coffee. He looked out of the cabin window onto white. It was snowing, and hard to tell where the sky ended and the earth began.

‘It’s perfect out there!’ he exclaimed.

‘It’s perfect in here.’ John sounded so damn happy.

***

In September, Rodney lost it, writing a ridiculously long email to John that broke all the rules and ended with:

_I just don’t know what to do, I’m going out of my mind. I miss you every day. I don’t want to visit because I don’t think I can go through another parting like the last one. I’m sick of pretending that I’m not still head over heels in love with you and waiting for something to change. Waiting for you, and I think I would probably wait forever._

_I know I’m not supposed to say any of this but I’m not sorry I have. As Ronon would say, the rules are stupid._

_Maybe I should come home but oh god I wish you could be here. Worth another go at the IOA to get you a job out here? Maybe I could talk to Priya, see if she can swing anything?_

_If you feel anything like the same way, of course. For fuck’s sake just tell me if you don’t._

And then, nothing. John’s email had already been overdue when he sent his, perhaps even that had rattled him into action. For 10 days there were no emails when John hadn’t missed a single day since Rodney left. At first, Rodney told himself John was just thinking things through. That lasted until day five, at which point Rodney was sure that John’s silence could only mean it was over between them, when he wasn’t dwelling on even worse possibilities. He couldn’t help send a second, brief email at this point – just in case the last one hadn’t got through, he told himself.

_John, please respond, even if it’s bad news. Going crazy here, really worried._

He was. He barely slept, picked at his food, couldn’t concentrate. By day ten, though, his mind was lingering in the very worst places. He actually _hoped_ at this point that John was dumping him because the alternative was unbearable to contemplate. The alternative was that back in the middle of one of Earth’s war zones, John had come to grief in a bad enough way that he couldn’t get a message to Rodney. While he was used to John being in danger, wraith and Genii and replicators seemed suddenly much more controllable dangers than Somalia’s chaotic civil war.

_Oh, god this has to be bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to the extraordinary organisation Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) for any dramatic liberties I may have taken. They are indeed working in Somalia and all over the world. I donate a small amount to MSF every month to support their work. If you're enjoying this fic and feel like bunging them a donation, here's the link https://www.msf.org/donate


	4. Not what we planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teyla’s face went immediately grave. ‘Something must have happened to him.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note for this chapter: contains hospital scenes, serious injuries, and needs a trigger warning if you're emetophobic

Oh god. He _knew_ John wouldn’t be such a shit as to just not reply to an email like that. Somewhere in the last year, probably in the middle of a long conversation back in Canada, Rodney had begun to trust John again. Right now, he wished he didn’t. Rodney’s hard-won cynicism and assumption that people would let him down just wasn’t going to work right now. It was a comfortable place to be, he realized, but he just wasn’t there.

‘Are you okay, Rodney? You are not eating.’ Teyla asked at lunch. He was sitting with her and Ronon picking at the blueish mash on his plate. It was unappetizing, but that didn’t usually stop him from wolfing food down.

He told her what was happening, desperately hoping she would say something wise and reassuring that he hadn’t thought of. After all, his other hard-won trait was surely his pessimism and tendency to over-worry, which ironically meant he often second-guessed his own fears even if they were valid.

But Teyla’s face went immediately grave. ‘Something must have happened to him.’ She looked to Ronon, who nodded his agreement.

‘Oh god, oh god!’ Now his fear was shared, the lid he had been keeping on it for days came right off. ‘I need to get back to Earth!’

Teyla just nodded.

Ronon said ‘Go see Mirchandani.’ Then, as Rodney got up to leave, his food untouched, Ronon added:

‘Sheppard’s got a way of cheating death.’

Rodney nodded, but he felt sick. There were so many possibilities out in Somalia – blown up, shot, kidnapped, car wreck, and even Sheppard must have a finite amount of luck. How ironic to have survived everything Pegasus had to throw at him to die on home soil in a stupid human war.

Mirchandani was not available, so he went to his quarters, packed a bag, throwing in random items without any ability to decide what he might need. His brain was in full panic mode. Then he logged onto his laptop. He found contact details for MSF on the sprawling Atlantis intranet that seemed sometimes to be a non-live back-up of the entire internet, porn included.

He fired off an email explaining he was trying to do a safe and well check on one John Sheppard in Somalia, suddenly wondering if John had given them next of kin information and if so, who. Desperately wanting, needing it to be him but realizing John probably wouldn’t have felt able to do that, the way they had left things. He wrote down a phone number he could call while sitting through quarantine.

He checked his emails. There was an email from Jeannie that had come through in the recent data burst, sometime in the last hour. It had no subject, which was weird for Jeannie., so he clicked it open.

_Rodney, John’s going to be ok, but he was in an accident. His chopper went down. He’s had a bit of a rough time but is pulling through. He’s lost his phone but managed to remember my number, (hooray for math nerds) and got someone to ring me. He’s being transferred back to a US hospital as we speak. Bruised, battered with a broken arm and rib fractures but he’s going to get through this._

Rodney sank his head in his hands and tried very hard not to cry. He shook himself after a minute and was about to close his laptop when he changed his mind, instead going back into his emails and forwarding Jeannie’s note to Ronon and Teyla. They would want to know. He kept to himself the obvious fact that nobody loses ten days or needs a hospital transfer from a broken arm and ribs. There was something Jeannie wasn’t telling or hadn’t been told.

He almost ran to Priya’s office. She should be back by now.

‘Is there any chance I could go back to Earth?’ He asked, without preamble.

‘Sure, Rodney, if it’s important. Have a seat, tell me what’s wrong.’

‘My partner has been in an accident.’ He couldn’t bring himself to sit down, but just about managed to refrain from pacing.

‘I didn’t know you had a partner, Rodney. I’m really sorry to hear this. About the accident, I mean. I hope they will be ok?’

‘Yes, well, it’s complicated with us.’ In his mind, he was defending his curious use of the word partner, but it really wasn’t the time to think about that. ‘Anyway he’s been in a chopper crash in Somalia while flying air ambulance for Médecins Sans Frontières.’ As he said it, Rodney was thinking _this was such a Sheppard thing to do._

‘I _think_ it will be alright, but it must have been bad for him to be unable to make contact for ten days. I only have minimal details.’

‘Your partner is John Sheppard?’

Rodney was pretty sure he hadn’t said the name out loud and was confused for a second. Then he panicked that he had outed John, before realizing he did not have to keep this a secret. ‘Yes but – how did you know it was John?’

‘I’m a trustee for MSF. It’s the sort of thing people like me get asked to do. John Sheppard getting shot down has shaken the organisation enormously.’

 _Shot down!_ Another wave of nausea hit Rodney and he was glad he didn’t eat his lunch, he might have lost it all over Priya’s office. ‘Do you know anything about how he is?’ He almost pleaded.

Priya hesitated. ‘Honestly, Rodney? When I got the email three days ago It did not sound good. John had head injuries and they were unsure of his prognosis. I am sorry.’

‘Oh god,’ Rodney felt like all the colour had drained out of the room. It was hard to breathe. Suddenly, Priya’s hand was on his arm, guiding him to a chair.

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ He pleaded.

‘Oh, Rodney I’m sorry, but I didn’t have permission to share outside the organisation, and I didn’t know if next of kin had yet been informed. I wanted to tell you, Teyla, Ronon and Carson of course, but I had to email back to get permission to do that and haven’t heard back.’

Why was he still talking about this? He already knew how serious this must be. If John had been in hospital for ten days without busting himself out, it had to have been bad, and for him to be shipped to a Stateside hospital – that didn’t sound good at all. The only faint glimmer was that John had been conscious enough to share Jeannie’s number.

‘I have to go . . . please.’ He almost whimpered.

‘I’m very sorry this happened. Of course you can go. Keep me posted, Rodney.’

‘Thank you,’ said Rodney again, but in his head,  he was thinking, _shot down, fucking shot down,_ feeling furious that anyone would shoot down an ambulance, and cold all over at the possibility of losing John for good.

***

Rodney stepped through the gate five minutes later and within half an hour was sitting in a grey concrete quarantine room and ringing Jeannie.

‘Oh Mer, you must be frantic, how are you holding up?’

‘Haven’t slept much for ten days. When’s he getting in, Jeannie? Where are they taking him?’ He knew he wouldn’t settle until he was by John’s bedside.

‘They’re taking him to a hospital in New York. He’ll arrive later today. As it’s the weekend and I’m free, I’m heading over there. Kaleb has the kids. I’m at the airport now. I may even get there before him.’

Rodney felt a wave of love for his sister wash through him. ‘Thank you, Jeannie.’

‘It’s ok, Mer, he’s family.’

‘Oh – does Dave know?’

‘Yeah, I called him via the company. He told me to keep him posted,’ Jeannie said with a sigh, ‘although he had no clue who I was and didn’t seem particularly interested. I was a bit vague as I wasn’t sure if John’s out to him. He did seem to care about John though, but not to know what to do. I guess he’s a busy man.’

‘He’s a cold fish.’ Rodney didn’t want to get started on the emotional unavailability of Sheppard men, something he knew a lot more about since he and John had finally talked about their lives at the end of last year.

He wondered whether to tell Jeannie John’s injuries were so much worse than she thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Maybe she knew. _Head injuries, uncertain prognosis,_ Priya’s words relentlessly drilled into his brain.

‘They’re calling my flight, Mer, I gotta go. I’ll put you on speaker to him the moment I get there, ‘K?’

Rodney sank down onto the uncomfortable-looking chair. There was nothing to do but wait. His custom-made digital watch was set for the 19.3-hour days of Lantea 3, where it was late afternoon. He switched it over to earth time, where it was 10 am.

He forced down some cereal and toast because he knew he hadn’t eaten all day and his blood sugar was so low he wouldn’t be able to concentrate even without the anxiety. Then, he attempted to put together some handover notes for Radek, but it was hard to stay on task. Rodney McKay not being able to work was unheard of. What notes he could write were full of snark and irritable comments.

He was glad to be isolated, because one thing Rodney knew about himself was that every difficult feeling he had on the inside translated to pissy on the outside. Anxious? Pissy. In pain? Pissy. Sad? Pissy. Out of his mind with the possibility he might lose the love of his life? Pissy. He understood himself and his autism well enough to know that pissy was an acceptably masculine veneer used to hide a multitude of overwhelming feelings men were not allowed to express.

Eventually he decided the notes for Radek would have to do for now, after editing out all the snark and even managing a little bit of _sorry_ and _thank-you,_ and a promise to keep half an eye on emails when he could. Even when people are dying ( _oh god, please don’t let it be that_ ) he knew well enough that hospitals are mostly about waiting and he could surely use work as a distraction if only he could get his brain to work more than it was right now.

He tried to while away some time on the internet – it had been a while since he’d accessed the live version – but eventually, like nudging at a wobbly tooth, he was drawn to search for news of John’s chopper crash.

When he saw the mangled wreckage, he threw up into the waste bin.

After a while, he was able to process the details. Scant information about the pilot other than that the unnamed man was “critically injured”. No other casualties. The attack had been a mistake, a political nightmare for the people involved. Inexperienced troops and poor communication. One more in-depth article talked about the use of child soldiers in Somalia, and then Rodney just felt sad. The person who shot down John’s chopper could have been just a kid fucking up. His anger ebbed away and he just felt tired and miserable, with the worst blood sugar headache he had had in years.

***

It was five in the afternoon Earth time and the middle of the night in Rodney’s head, not that he could sleep, when Jeannie finally called him.

‘Mer . . .’

Rodney’s heart clenched in his chest at the “breaking bad news” tone of voice that even he could detect.

‘He’s just arrived, but he’s sedated.’ _Not dead_ , thought Rodney, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. ‘Mer,’ that tone again, ‘he has a head injury. They’re prepping him for immediate surgery to repair his skull and remove a bone fragment. They say he has a good chance of full recovery, but there are risks . . .’ Jeannie went on, but Rodney couldn’t focus on what she was saying, his thoughts were spiraling out of control.

 _If I’d not gone back to Atlantis, this never would have happened._ Rodney realized he was shaking and sank into the chair from where he had been pacing the room. His head was throbbing worse than before and only one of his eyes could focus at all.

‘Mer, are you there?’ Rodney murmured a response, but everything seemed suddenly remote. He still hadn’t eaten anything other than the puked-up toast and cornflakes, hadn’t had a proper sleep in days, had no idea how to regain control of himself or his feelings. He wanted to bang the phone against his pounding head and scream, but instead just froze.

‘Mer, it’s going to be okay. Just breathe. I’m going to go now but I will keep you updated. Hang in there. Love you.’

‘Thanks, Jeannie,’ he almost whined and sagged in the chair.

After she hung up, he looked at the untouched, congealed food they had brought him for lunch, but only managed to eat a couple of packets of sugar that came with the awful coffee, to stave off his hypoglycemia. Not eating, like not being able to work, just wasn’t something Rodney did, and by this point he was feeling vaguely out of his body but he really didn’t care. He just wanted to be with John and was mad, mad, mad that he ever put so much literal space between them.

 

When Jeannie finally had the news that John was out of surgery, it was ten at night and Rodney was a mess. The surgery had gone “as well as expected” and there wasn’t much more she could say.

‘Rodney, can you give me Sam Carter’s number, I want to update her,’ there was – something – in her tone but he couldn’t figure it out. His aching head was all fuzzy and he was slurring his words. This was the worst he had managed his hypoglycemia in years. He messaged the number to her and thought no more of it until a doctor he didn’t know appeared at the door in a hasmat suit.

‘Your sister said to tell you that you can’t look after John if you’re not looking after yourself,’ she said, examining Rodney and then setting up an IV and giving him a sedative. Rodney was too weak to argue, or even to speak, really. He quickly drifted into unconsciousness.

 

General Carter was kind enough to agree to beam Rodney over to New York as soon as his quarantine was up, and he was immediately thankful in a personal way that the SGC was dragging its heels over the handover to the UN. Rodney felt a little more human today, thanks to the doctor, whose name and face were a complete mystery. He had even managed some breakfast when he woke up at 8, plus his usual unhealthy amount of coffee.

He arrived in a small, secluded parking lot a little after 9.40 on the Sunday morning and within ten minutes was at the nursing station near John’s private room, preparing to do battle with a nurse who had just told him the visiting was ‘family only’.

‘I’m Rodney McKay, I’m –‘

‘John’s partner, yes,’ the man smiled at him. ‘I have your name written down right here, Mr McKay. A list of people came through with him from Somalia.’

Rodney felt so overwhelmed with emotion he didn’t even correct the “Mr”.

Rodney entered John’s room. Jeannie was back at the hotel, so they were alone. John was almost unrecognizable; a forlorn, sleeping figure surrounded by noisy machines. One side of his face was cut, swollen and bruised beyond it looking much like a face at all, let alone John’s. His head was wrapped in bandages. His right arm in a full cast.

‘Just a broken arm and some fractured ribs, my ass!’ was the first thing Rodney said angrily, but of course he instantly regretted it. _You haven’t seen the man in nearly nine months, he’s been through hell and that’s what you say to him? You total dick!_

He couldn’t get a handle on the bubbling anger he felt at seeing John looking so broken. He wanted to scream and fight and he knew he was seconds away from a meltdown, from going and shouting at the nurse for no reason, or shouting at John, lying there broken, for getting himself hurt. None of it made any sense but he just couldn’t bear it.

He was used to seeing John in an infirmary bed, but it had never been this bad, and certainly never hurt this much to see.

‘Hey, Rodney,’ John’s voice was a little blurry as he stirred and opened his eyes. Rodney’s heart almost broke to see the pain in them. ‘I may have bumped my head’. His scabbed mouth was trying to pull into his characteristic smirk but it came off as a wince. Rodney’s anger collapsed, and he was by John’s side, holding his good left hand and kissing it gently.

There wasn’t much of John that wasn’t scraped and bruised. He had a long gash down his wrist, and grazes on the back of his hand. A drop of moisture appeared on the hand as Rodney bent over it, surprising him. _Stupid tears_. Rodney felt at the mercy of his emotions and just sat quietly, trying to pull himself together, wishing he knew what to do or say to make any of it better and feeling like he was drowning. The beeping, hissing of machines was drilling into his head and his heart flew against his chest. John just squeezed his hand gently, as if it was Rodney, not John, who needed comfort.

 _This is not the time to have a meltdown,_ he chided himself, feeling like he wanted to tear at his hair or throw himself on the floor and just shake and cry. Instead, he narrowed his focus onto John’s hand, gently stroking the tiny space of unhurt flesh, watching the hairs spring back up as his touch passed over them.

_This is John. He’s alive, he’s right here._

‘I’m sorry,’ John croaked eventually, ‘this was an over-the-top way to get to see you again.’

Rodney smiled despite himself. ‘Yeah, you could’ve just asked.’ He held a cup of water with a straw for John to drink. His voice sounded dryer than a pile of fall leaves.

‘Didn’t want to see you anyway.’ John said, and Rodney’s brow knitted. John’s hand clinging to his was telling a very different story. ‘Not if it meant having to say goodbye again,’ he clarified.

_Oh god, that._

‘I feel the same. Missed you so damn much.’ Now he could no longer stop the tears slipping down his cheeks, and to his surprise he realized John’s one eye that wasn’t swollen shut was also leaking tears. He reached across to gently brush them away, and then leaned to plant a soft kiss on John’s unhurt left cheek.

 

By the time Jeannie arrived, Rodney had his mask once more secure and was able to talk to the surgeon as what passed among neurotypicals for appropriate male stoicism, using the power of being mildly pissy to keep the mask in place. The surgeon was quietly optimistic about the surgery, and the following days would tell if John was going to suffer any long-term effects from the brain injury. If Rodney actually wanted to kiss him for apparently saving John’s life, he kept it to himself, but he did manage a sincere thank you, which took the man by surprise.

John was awake to hear all this, but slipped into sleep straight after, and Rodney and Jeannie sneaked out for a drink.

Before they had got very far, Jeannie stopped Rodney in a quiet bit of corridor.

‘Mer, you don’t have to put on an act, I know you’ve been out of your mind with worry, if that were Kaleb, I don’t know what I’d do.’ And then she put her arms round him and held him. Really tightly.

‘Oh.’ Rodney said, sagging against his sister. After a long while, he pulled back. His eyes were only slightly moist and his nose just a little bit snuffly.

‘I have no idea how to do any of this,’ he confessed.

‘There’s nothing to do but be here, Mer. You’re doing fine.’ She squeezed his hand.

 

He scheduled a call with Radek and Priya for the following day. After holding for a few minutes he had Walter on the line, saying, ‘We just opened the wormhole, we can patch you through to Dr Mirchandani now,’ and a minute later Rodney was speaking on a clear phone line to someone in another galaxy.

He filled Priya in on what was happening. ‘I won’t beat about the bush, and I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I’m not leaving him alone here to convalesce. There’s a lot of work I can do from my laptop, but I need to know how long you can spare me, or frankly whether I need to hand in my notice.’

‘Rodney, you take as long as you need, you’re too indispensable, candidly, for us to be giving you ultimatums, even if I was the sort of boss to quibble over compassionate leave, which I’m not.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, relieved to have bought himself time, but uncertain when he thought too far ahead.

‘Oh, and Rodney, there is one solution, and I promise it’s not just my self-interest saying this. You are welcome to bring John back to Atlantis to convalesce.’

Rodney swallowed against the lump that rose in his throat when she said this. ‘I wish I could have him there, but it would break his heart to visit when he’s not allowed back to work in Atlantis.’

‘Oh,’ Priya said, sounding surprised. ‘I did not know about that, I’m sorry. That must be very hard on both of you.’

‘Yes,’ was all Rodney could say, hoping the sob he felt trying to pull itself free didn’t come through in his voice.

‘Well, Rodney, take care of John, take care of yourself, and keep me updated. Tell Radek to work on the premise you won’t be back for a couple of months at least, and all the work you can’t do remotely will be re-allocated. I’ll put you through to him now.’

***

Four days later, and the hospital was satisfied enough with their extensive scans of John’s head injury and tests of his responses to discharge him the following day. Chances of a complete recovery were looking more realistic by the day.

Rodney didn’t know what to do or where to go, and he could tell John was a little scared about what happened next. His body was knocked about and he was in pain everywhere, a mass of seized and torn muscles even where there weren’t fractures and lacerations.

Usually, John fretted to be discharged but this time he was struggling to get out of bed and shuffle as far as the bathroom. When the physio showed him how to negotiate stairs, he tired after only three, fought to do two more and then went a horrible shade of grey and sank against the wall, panting as if he had just sparred heavily with Ronon. Rodney slipped his arm around John and helped the physio get him into a wheelchair and back to bed.

This was going to take time and patience, not something either of them were known for.

‘Feel so stupid,’ John mumbled as Rodney helped him back into bed.

Rodney rubbed the back of John’s neck as he settled him down onto the pillows, and then petted his hair where it showed below the bandage as sweetly as he thought he could get away with without being accused of babying him. He could tell John was all at once desperate for comfort and also terrified of how vulnerable he was.

‘S’nice,’ was all John said as Rodney’s fingers began to massage his neck and gently push his shoulders down where they had risen up from the tension of carrying his pain-wracked body. ‘Could get used to having you here.’ John looked at Rodney, his right eye now just visible through the receding swelling.

Even through the pain and injury, and even with his limited ability to read faces, Rodney knew John well enough to notice the storm cloud gathering in his thoughts.

‘What’s up?’ He brushed John’s good cheek and gave a good approximation of holding his gaze.

‘I can afford the best care and nurses, Rodney. It’s time for you to go back. You’re needed there.’

Rodney pressed his lips together, considering the immediate reaction of his heart to those words. It was hard not to hear “I don’t need you here”, but seeing how miserable John looked, he decided to leave his insecurity aside.

‘Oh, that is such utter bullshit, John Sheppard and you know it. I have no intention of going back while you’re like this, Priya has given me two months and I intend to take them.’

‘But your work . . .’

‘Look, I hate to admit it, but Radek managed without me just fine for six months. He will manage for two. And there’s a lot I can do from my laptop, catch up on writing papers, do some programming, run simulations. They won’t even miss me.’

But John still looked miserable, and Rodney really wasn’t getting it.

‘Rodney,’ he said, attempting even with his slightly broken voice a tone that Rodney associated with “I’m your mission leader, do as I say”.

‘What?’

‘I can’t do this.’ John looked like he might cry.

 _He’s breaking up with me? Fuck!_ Now Rodney’s face dropped, and the threat of tears had him poised and ready to shout or snipe.

John reached for his hand and grasped it surprisingly tightly. ‘I mean, I can’t get used to you being here. Not when I’m so . . .  vulnerable.’ He ground that last word out almost resentfully. ‘You have to leave now, or I won’t cope when you eventually have to go.’

‘Oh.’

Rodney considered this for a moment, and of course he knew exactly how John felt. Of course he knew he would never return to Atlantis without John because now he was here it was impossible to break out of John’s orbit. The year before, he had been prepared to leave Atlantis to get away from this thing with John, but now he knew he was going to leave Atlantis, and possibly risk his career, because he just could not walk away another time.

‘I’m not going back,’ he said simply. ‘I can’t, John.’

‘Don’t pity me, McKay,’ John almost growled this, like a warning.

‘I’m not. It’s not . . . look, it was inevitable that eventually I would come home, see your face, and never be able to leave you again. Trust me, getting yourself bashed to pieces was quite unnecessary. I would have come home on leave, probably for Christmas, and that would be that – caught without a chance of escape, or for that matter any desire to. And I would have done what I’m going to do now – apply for a job Earth-side and start living a normal life with my brilliant and gorgeous partner.’ He looked suddenly shy. ‘I mean, if you want . . .’

‘Stupid.’ John replied, his thumb massaging Rodney’s hand. ‘Of course I want.’

And so, it was decided. They would head for Jeannie’s for a bit, at her insistence, and then figure out next steps, but those steps would be together. Atlantis would leave a big hole in their lives, but what mattered was them being together. Rodney suddenly felt a peace he had not felt since he had returned to Atlantis.

No, he couldn’t do Atlantis without John.

 

‘Right, I’m going out to get you some clothes and supplies,’ said Rodney some time later. John’s possessions hadn’t made it back from Somalia and, John said, there was very little he would miss, but he wanted something other than a back-opening gown to leave the hospital in. All John now owned in the world was in a storage unit in Colorado Springs. Rodney suspected it consisted of a Johnny Cash poster, a few college football DVDs, a battered copy of War and Peace and not a lot else. ‘Any special requests?’

‘A phone. Nothing fancy, but I really wanna check my emails.’ John’s crash had happened before Rodney had sent his long email, and Rodney hadn’t said anything about it.

Later, John was awkwardly scrolling through his new smart phone left handed, Rodney having set it all up for him while he slept.

‘I missed two from you, sorry,’ John said, and went quiet as he read. After a while, he looked up at Rodney, an emotional expression on a face that was beginning to return to its correct shape. ‘Oh god, Rodney, you must have been frantic!’ He grabbed for Rodney’s hand. I feel exactly the same. Exactly.’ The squeeze he gave Rodney’s hand was reassuringly firm.

A little while later, he exclaimed, ‘there’s one from Priya Mirchandani, I wonder what she wants?’ and then ‘huh, she’s a trustee of MSF, she’s thanking me’. And then John went really quiet, and Rodney could tell something was up. Eventually, John said ‘fucking hell’.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Read it.’ John’s hand was shaking as he passed Rodney the phone.

_Dear John_

_First, may I say in my capacity as a trustee for MSF how much I appreciate all you have done for our organization, and how sorry I was to hear about your accident. I hope your recovery is progressing smoothly and quickly._

_Apologies if I am intruding on your private life, but when I spoke with Rodney I suggested he bring you back to Atlantis to convalesce, and he explained how difficult that would be for you, given you’re not allowed to work here. I was concerned to hear that, after all you have contributed to Atlantis, so I made some enquiries._

_I spoke with Richard Woolsey and got the lay of the land. Richard has now returned to work and was able to help me renegotiate your position. It seems that given your CV’s recent work experience now reads “humanitarian work” rather than “US Military Commander” you are a better fit for the Atlantis Mission as it is now configured. I feel certain we can find a role for you here, in fact I know a job is on the cards early next year that may suit you, but I can’t say more about that at this time._

_What I am saying is, I encourage you to return to Atlantis for your convalescence, if you would like to of course, and I am confident that in the next six months we can find appropriate work for you if you are interested._

_Obviously, this is self interest on my part. There is a clear John Sheppard shaped hole in the Atlantis family, and your knowledge and skills would be of immense use to us. In addition, I really don’t think Atlantis can afford to lose Rodney, and though he did not say so, I sensed from our last conversation that this is very likely if you are not here._

_Kind regards_

_Priya Mirchandani_

_Atlantis Mission Leader_

‘Fucking hell,’ Rodney echoed, his heart doing little skips.

 

**Epilogue**

They woke up with the pinkish light of dawn streaming through the windows of their shared quarters on Atlantis. Rodney kissed John’s cheek, and scrutinized his face, a morning ritual to assess the progress of John’s healing. The vicious head scar was getting paler. One side of John’s head had been shaved but now showed a month’s regrowth, although there would always be a hairless swathe that ran from his temple to just behind his ear. Rodney knew that scar had nearly cost John his life, and every time he looked at it, he felt a knot of panic rise up, and then a flood of gratitude for MSF doctors and John’s will to survive.

The rest of John’s hair had been clipped short. It took a bit of getting used to but felt amazingly soft. Rodney was constantly playing with it. It amused them both that John finally had an appropriate military hair cut with no one around to appreciate it. Even at this length, though, it seemed to grow haphazardly and with a mind of its own.

John’s gorgeous face was back to normal, although his nose wasn’t quite the same shape as before. The worst cut across his cheek was almost healed, and the scar would be faint in time.

‘How’s it looking?’ John asked.

‘Pretty darn good,’ Rodney responded, kissing him long and slow.

John looked at his watch.

‘Am I boring you?’ Rodney snipped.

‘No,’ John replied, kissing him back with equal patience, but I’m meeting Ronon for a run, and checking I have time to do this . . .’ he pushed Rodney onto his back and climbed on top of him, holding himself up with his cast arm while running his good hand all over Rodney’s body. Rodney moaned his appreciation, but then suddenly propped himself up, looking at what John was doing with his broken arm.

‘Hang on a sec, should you be doing that? And _running?_ ’

‘Rodney, it’s been nearly six weeks since the accident. I’ll be fine. Ronon’s good at the rehab stuff, he’ll take it easy, a small jog to the pier, then down to the gym, help build my strength back up. I wanna be fit again, whatever Priya has in store for me.

Rodney knew John had a meeting with Mirchandani later that day, and wondered what she had planned, because after that, there was a full staff assembly scheduled in the gate room, and Rodney assumed there was going to be a restructure of some sort.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Damn! Ronon’s early.’ John kissed Rodney briefly and rolled out of bed, quickly pulling on sweats and a T shirt. ‘Can we continue this later?’

‘Definitely,’ Rodney replied, scooching to the edge of the bed and grabbing John for a last kiss. He watched John as he went to the door, noticing how much freer his movement was, although there was still some care and stiffness in how he walked.

‘Go easy on him, Ronon,’ Rodney said as the two left for their run. Ronon just huffed.

***

Rodney hadn’t had a chance to see John after his meeting with Priya, so he arrived at the staff assembly none the wiser as to what was going on.

Priya stood at the foot of the stairs, with Teyla at her side. Rodney went over to where John was leaning at the side wall with Ronon. John’s movements were slow and stiff from his workout and Rodney could feel himself worrying protectively and wanting to lecture him, but instead just smiled. Learning to not worry about John was his new mission. They had to get back onto an equal footing and away from the carer/patient dynamic. He had to let go a little. John had recovered from enough injuries to know what he was doing, he tried to remind himself.

Priya cleared her throat, and the assembled staff, about 50/50 Earthers and indigenous people of Pegasus, quickly hushed.

‘I have a series of exciting announcements, so please bear with me. The first of these is that the UN is looking to declassify the Stargate and Atlantis Projects.

There were a series of gasps at this. Declassification was big news.

‘Yes,’ Priya continued, ‘It comes as a surprise, but is not before time. But I don’t imagine that is going to happen very quickly. It is not yet time for you to write home to your Auntie Sue about your adventures in another galaxy.’

This got a small laugh, which relieved some of the tension that was building up in the room.

‘More immediately relevant here, is that I have myself been appointed to head up the declassification project. This of course means I will be stepping down here as Mission Leader as of February first next year. I am very sad to be leaving Atlantis, it has a very special place in my heart, but I am not going far, in a manner of speaking, for although I will be returning to Earth, I will be liaising with many of you as the project develops, and I promise to come visit.’

Rodney felt a stirring of sadness. He really liked Priya, and she had been one of the best Mission Leaders they’d had. He wondered who could possibly fill her shoes.

‘Which brings me to another decision the UN has made which may be more important and relevant to the folks here than declassification. They have at last decided that, with my enthusiastic support, it is time for the role of mission leader of Atlantis to go to a Pegasus native. I am very pleased to say that Ambassador Teyla Emmagen has agreed to take over this role as of February first 2014, a little over three months from now. Ambassador Emmagen has a wealth of experience as leader of the Athosian people, Athosian Ambassador to Earth, active member of this mission and Deputy Mission Leader. She is a diplomat, a warrior and a strategist, as well as being one of the longest standing current inhabitants of Atlantis. She is overqualified for this role, and we are very lucky she has consented to it. I am sure you will join me in giving her our warm congratulations.’

The assembly erupted in loud claps and cheers and Teyla nodded, a humble smile spreading across her face. Teyla was a popular choice, who managed to build strong relationships with everyone she encountered, a gift which left Rodney in awe. He looked at John at his side, who was beaming.

Eventually the crowd simmered down, and Priya continued.

‘Finally, I would also like to announce the person who we have appointed as Teyla Emmagen’s deputy.

Rodney’s heart leaped at this, and he looked across at John, but John was looking dispassionately at Priya.

‘The person we have appointed is the author of the landmark strategy paper that changed the face of this expedition to put it on its current course, as well as having previous mission and leadership experience, and we feel he has a lot to offer the Deputy role.’

Woolsey? Rodney’s heart sank. They’re bringing back Woolsey? He really didn’t think Richard Woolsey would set foot in Pegasus after the poor man had been tortured by the Genii. He didn’t _mind_ Woolsey, but of course he was disappointed it wasn’t John. John and Teyla would have made an excellent team, Rodney thought, with the right admin support to help him organize his ADHD brain. Ah well.

He focused back on Dr Mirchandani’s words. ‘I hope you will all give a warm welcome to Doctor John Sheppard, who will be taking the job as of February first, and who will be taking up the role of assisting the handover at the beginning of December. Please give him a warm welcome back to Atlantis.’

 _Whoa, he did get it,_ thought Rodney. _Cool. Wait, John wrote that report?_ Rodney was thrown – he really had not expected that. _Wait, wait, John has a PhD????_ His brain finally caught up with what he had heard.

John smiled shyly as the crowd enthusiastically clapped and cheered his appointment. He also, Rodney noticed, was no longer leaning, but holding himself stiffly upright. Not to attention or anything vaguely military, just alert and present in a way Rodney was unused to seeing.

‘You have a PhD? How did I not know this?’ Rodney muttered to him through the din.

‘You consistently underestimate me, McKay,’ teased John, but his eyes were sparkling. ‘Or maybe, for a while there, I was a slacker who didn’t want to try too hard or look too keen, and maybe that’s not who I am anymore. I got a PhD before I turned into that idiot.’

‘A PhD!’ Rodney repeated, ‘That is so fucking hot,’ he added, in a low murmur.

***

Much later, they snuck their beers away from the ensuing gateroom party and found their way down to the pier.

‘Almost like old times,’ Rodney said as they chinked their bottles together. Then he weaved an arm round John and pulled him into a long kiss, reminding himself how _not_ like old times things now were.

‘Not really. Better,’ said John, when they came up for air.

‘So, the thing I really need to ask you about. The Strategy Report. You literally castigated your own command and talked them into losing you your job. _You_ got the US military out of Atlantis, John. I thought it was authored by Woolsey. How did I not know this? And why did you do it?’

‘Because it was the right thing to do. Because it was the truth. Because for too long I had just gone along with things, keeping my mouth shut and not using my brain or my own moral compass too much. But then somewhere in the middle of last year, someone I love a whole lot said some very harsh but very accurate things to me that made me take a good look at everything I was and everything I’d done. And I had a big fucking epiphany.’

‘Wow.’

‘Of course, it wasn’t until after I had submitted the strategy paper and they’d decided to act on its recommendations, pretty much ending my military career _and_ my stay in Atlantis that I discovered you were going back.’ John rubbed the back of Rodney’s neck, very nearly making him purr. ‘So my plan to make it up to you any way I could hit a road bump. But I don’t think I would have done it any differently.’

‘And look how it all worked out!’

‘Yeahhhhhh,’ said John hesitantly, pulling his hand back from Rodney and fiddling with the back of his hair, something he did much more now it was clipped short. ‘About that . . .’

‘What? Oh god, what?’ Rodney panicked. John’s look was serious and a little worried.

‘It’s just . . . oh yikes, I don’t know how to say this.’

‘Spit it out, Sheppard,’ Rodney snapped, ready to break any minute.

‘I think we should get married,’ John said simply.

Rodney just stared at him.

‘It’s too soon,’ John went on, ‘I know we said we’d take things slow. I just. Rodney, we’ve had years of great sex, we love each other, we’ve cried together, we’ve been in mortal peril together, and now we’ve got the talking thing down, I feel like it’s so fucking solid I want to stamp it, declare it, write it down in stone.’

Rodney still just stared at him.

John babbled on.

‘But of course, it’s too soon for you, I mean I was such an asshole, how can you know it’s safe to trust me with something so big?’

Still staring.

‘Maybe we should forget I said this, Rodney. It’s okay, I won’t hate you for saying no or not yet . . .’ John brushed Rodney’s arm and then grabbed his hand and squeezed.

Rodney’s brain finally came back online.

‘Yes! Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes!!!!!’ He planted kisses all over John’s face. ‘Fuck, yes!!’


End file.
